Tuesday, November 24, 2009

I've decided that since CSIL has been causing drama around here lately, I would dust off an old rant I wrote before the existence of this blog... Its from April 2008 I was very angry the day I wrote this. It's long.... but funny.BTW, all curse words are in play. I'm to lazy to change a damn thingApril 2008 Let me preface this rant by saying this. She is a drama queen. She is the queen of the drama queens. Drama Queens aspire to be this good. And today she stunk like a rum bottle. For the rest of this rant she will be called Crazy Ass Sister In Law or CSILSo, the crazy ass sister in law called a "family meeting" this week. I thought to myself. "great. what have we (or anyone) done to her this time." HA! Little did I know what was in store.... I leave straight from work to go there. My husband picks me up from the bus stop. Everyone is there except her. We wait. For 40 minutes until she shows up. Remember ladies and gentlemen, CSIL *called* for this fucking thing. And she is staggering! (WHOOO!!) She is half crying already. I am thinking. "OK maybe she is sick" Oh, how that was an understatement of the century. She starts directing people to stand or sit in a particular spot. She says: "Your all going to think I am crazy, and I don’t know if Dad has come to you, but he has come to me for the last month and he has messages for all of you." An I thought (in the words of the great Lewis Black) "WHAT the Fuck!?" She now proceeds to say she will speak but it won’t her speaking (who the fuck is talking then??) and when its done we all have to go to the living room and she won’t remember this. (Of course not, that's why it’s called black out drunk) I am standing here wondering what episode of punk’d I walked into and how do I get out. She starts the.... "channeling" of her dead (for over a year) father. (Are you fucking kidding me?) His "messages" to her 2 kids are things a mother should have been teaching her daughters years ago. Daughter 1 doesn’t want to go stand next to her mother because she has just realized that her mother is a fucking mental case. CSIL commands her: "He is getting angry, come over here." (WAIT! The enlightened, heavenly ghost of father past is getting pissed cause she doesn’t want to stand in a certain spot??!!!!) I don’t make it to the second kid. I am ready to bust out laughing at this absurd charade, so I leave the room and go to the (final destination) living room to play with my kid, who I haven’t seen all day. This load of crap goes on for an hour! AN HOUR! She spends no more than 10 min giving "messages" to her own kids that she can’t get along with cause she needs PROZAC! Then I am commanded to bring Julia to the undead one so that she can give my husband his message of bullshit. And yes, it is total BULLSHIT. (TV Psychics do better than this crap) He is sorry to have had such a short time with my daughter before he died. (Listen bitch, he has alot of other shit he needs to be sorry for and that’s not it) He wants my husband to stay on the path to recovery. (MS IS NOT CURABLE YOU MORON!) This is all the wisdom to be imparted on us because apparently she didn’t rehearse this part as much. (5 minutes. He is coming back from the dead and this is IT!?) I take my kid and leave the room before I back-hand her in the head. At this point, I miss the messages for the other 2 brothers, because there are 3 kids under 3 years old in the (final destination) living room, that not a single person is paying attention to. 1 is mine. When I was able to get back to the doorway, I listen for the next 25 minutes about her. CSIL is referring to her self in the 3rd person and pretending to be in a trance. (A fucking trance... I can’t stand it.)(Remember this is the undead one talking THRU HER) CSIL goes on to talk about herself, first saying she has no friends and can’t make friends because the undead one checked on her too much as a teenager, he is so sorry. (HEY my stepfather STALKED ME in high school, and I was a good kid! But I have no trouble making friends!) Later she contradicts the earlier statement by claiming the undead one is sorry for paying more attention to his biological sons and apparently this is why she doesn’t have friends. (WHAT?) She doesn’t know her bio-dad, she feels he rejected her (BOO fucking HOO. She never met the guy. EVER. My husband's father had always been there.) Then the undead one says "now she feels rejected because I left too" (WHAT? He died! I am sorry, how is his dying of a heart attack a rejection of her!!)My brain is starting to feel like its gonna explode as the CSIL begins to unknowingly reveal that this is all a ploy to manipulate us in to feeling guilty or pity or something for her. I am just pissed off. His dying was not about her! And nothing she says is new information. There is not one single thing that is an intimate detail to make me believe that she had been talking to her dead father for a month. (That is just how long it took to practice the fake seance and plan) At one point the undead father (she) starts complaining that his ashes are still in the house. (Really? SRSLY? He cares that much about it?)I can see on their faces that nobody is buying this thing anymore. At least I hope not anyway. Not after a 25 minute "message" about how hard her life is on her (anti-social ass) and how we need to love her (or something). My husband writes "crazy" on a mini Magna-doodle. I have to leave. I am literally at the point that if we don’t leave, I am going to cause serious trouble. Thankfully, Julia has had enough and we get the fuck out of there as its wrapping up (I missed the end cause I needed a potty break.)Apparently, the undead one commanded CSIL to go in to the (final destination) living room and lay on the sofa where he died and do.... something. I think she passed out. And daughter 1 says "what are we supposed to do with her now?" (GOOD FUCKING QUESTION!!) I spent the rest of the evening ranting about this crap, because holding it all in for an hour was a lot of FUCKING work. I have some Prozac left over from my post-baby depression. I think I should give the happy pills to her. (Here, take 2!!) She needs help. WHY oh WHY, would the undead father not "talk" to his wife he "loved so much" ?!!? She would be the more likely person. I mean, if I am gonna haunt someone cause I need to get a message across, I am gonna pick my sister or mom or my husband over anyone else. srsly.To use a dead relative to manipulate people, complain and try to boss people around by telling them what you think they should be doing, is just fuckin ignorant. And rude. And WRONG. It makes me so so pissed off. Write a letter, talk to your mother in private, talk to a mental health professional, but don’t pretend you can channel dead spirits and ruin my afternoon by wasting my time as well as everyone else involved. Fuckin crazy ass....

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

I am sorry for going so long between posts... It just has not been in the cards for me...What I have learned: Even though i wear my contacts 355 days a year, (I know! Bad bad... but I am practically blind and life is much easier this way.) Sleeping in contacts while being attacked by a wicked sinus cold is a BAD thing. So bad that I scratched my right eye and irritated the shit out of my left eye. I haven't worn glasses in FOREVER and when I pulled them out... I vowed to live with wearing 1 contact and just suffering. Anything to keep from looking like Harry Potter's sister. Srsly. As I write this, I still only have 1 contact in, but my eyes are not a new shade of red anymore... thank goodness. I am hoping in the next couple days my eyeballs will stop hating me and my F&%$ing Halloween cold will clear the rest of the way out....What I have learned:That 7 weeks of classroom training still doesn't prepare you for the brain explosion of taking calls alone (sorta). All the shit you learned now needs to be more than just theory.... and that's a challenge in my new line of work...What I have learned:No matter what I try, my almost 3 year old kid refuses to stay potty trained. She will do it for my mom and sorta for me, but not at all for her daddy. She KNOWS. She just refuses, so if you got tips, tricks, ANYTHING, please share. I need HELP.What I have learned:That there is a real life Dennie the Menace and he has moved for a 40 acre farm in Virgina to 2 houses down from me. And while he appears to be destruction with feet, its my neighbor I feel for. He has become the unwitting "Mr Wilson" stuck in the role of giving the kid juice boxes to go away when he is working in the garage, dealing with him climbing and hitting the metal fence between the yards, and other annoying shit... His dad is trying to adapt, but this is the city and your kid is 7. You just cant send him outside and NOT check on him for HOURS. SRSLY.I'm gonna rest my eyeballs now.